Pure As The Driven
by Lazarus76
Summary: Eames is the love of Arthur's life. But Eames has another love that threatens to destroy them both. Rated T. Inspired by fics by Moviemaniac12 and Libby24
1. Chapter 1

**Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur rolled over, and smacked his hand down on to the empty side of the bed. Yawning, he curled further into the duvet, opening his eyes. Blinking, he tried to focus, his heart beginning to sink as he realised he was alone.

Alone. Again.

He pulled the cover round him more tightly, and rolled back, refusing to look at the yawning chasm. He'd told him he'd stay there. Told him he wouldn't go. Not tonight.

He shut his eyes, trying to imagine that the previous night hadn't happened. He'd been standing at the sink, washing dishes, when Eames had come up behind him, slipping his arms round his waist. He'd stood there, calmly soaping a plate, whilst the Forger nuzzled at his neck.

"Oh, come on…" it was practically a whine. "I promise I'll be good."

"No," the Point Man responded calmly, concentrating on rinsing the china. "Absoultely not. We've got this case coming up, and Cobb wants-"

Eames squeezed him round his middle, hard. Arthur let the plate slide from his hand.

"I know what Cobb wants," Eames said, nibbling at his ear lobe. "But I also want you, and want us to go out, and have a good time."

Arthur turned to face him.

"Eames. You know what happened the last time we went out." His eyes narrowed. "I can't risk it again." He shook his head. Eames swallowed, licking his bottom lip.

"Arthur…" it was a plea, and sighing, the younger man turned and kissed him. "There. No, don't go. Please. I can't bail you out again."

Eames looked at him, pouting slightly. "Don't you trust me?"

Arthur sighed, and ran his finger down Eames' jawline. "I do trust you," he said, hating himself for lying. "I do. But, after the last time-"

Eames grabbed his hand. "My mistake. Shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry Arthur, I really am. But please…"

Arthur tried to ignore the grey eyes, looking into his. He shuddered slightly. "No. Now, I need to finish this."

He felt the hands around him flex, and he shuddered slightly. Then Eames relaxed, pulling him tight. "OK. I'll be good."

Arthur exhaled, relived. "Thank you. Now, pick up a towel?"

* * *

Lies.

Again.

Arthur tried to ignore the tears prickling in his eyes. He wiped at them, swung his legs round, and got up. Pulling on his bathrobe, he padded into the kitchen. Looking at the clock, he saw it was 4am.

4 am! The china cup he was holding nearly crashed to the floor. What was Eames doing? Who was he doing it with? Uncomfortable, unpleasant thoughts were starting to crowd into Arthur's head, and he shook it. Opening the cupboard, he reached for a box of peppermint tea. Dropping a bag into the cup, he flicked the switch on the kettle.

Arthur sank onto a metal stool, waiting listlessly for the water to boil. He heard the switch click, and got up to pour hot water on. He waited, watching asa the water mutated from clear into a dull, metallic green. Reaching for a spoon, he retrieved the bag and prepared to throw it in the trash.

Suddenly, he heard a scraping, clicking noise. "Eames?" he called, letting the bag slide on to the floor. "Eames, is that-"

The Forger appeared. Arthur blinked. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and he had a faint odour. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Arthur felt his insides beginning to collapse. He swallowed.

"Eames?" He said, trying to stay calm. "Eames, you didn't, did you?"

"No, Artie," the Forger said, turning to him, with a smile that showed agitation. "No, I didn't. I wish you'd trust me." Walking over to him, he kissed him on the forehead. "I need some sleep, OK?"

"We're meant to be at the Warehouse at 10am-"

"Oh, tell Cobb I've got a migraine," Eames said dismissively, heading into the bedroom.

Arthur gritted his teeth. "Tell him yourself."

Eames stopped, and despite his agitated expression, looked concerned. "Arthur, please. Please. I'm sorry. It was only the one-"

"Not interested," Arthur said sharply. "Go and have a shower."

Eames yawned. "Sleep first."

Arthur watched as he headed for the bedroom. Picking up his mug, he took a sip, feeling drained.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Eames rolled over, and rubbed his eyes. His head felt heavy, and he sneezed. As he brought his hand up to his face, he grimaced as he saw that he'd released some blood.

He sat up, struggling with the bedclothes. He knew Arthur would have gone to work, and also knew he would cover for him. He smiled, which quickly turned into a grimace. A sharp pain was starting to make its presence felt, and he suddenly realised that the only thing that would make him feel better was a hit.

He swallowed. His throat felt rough. Getting up, he headed for the bathroom, fishing in the pocket of his discarded shirt for the small wrap. A tremour of guilt passed through him. Arthur would be upset. But, he thinks, almost frantically, he can make it up to him. He always has done.

* * *

Arthur sat pouring over his laptop, studying a spreadsheet. Cobb walked in. "Hey."

Arthur looked up, tiredly. "Hey."

"Where's Eames?" Cobb asked, conversationally. He perched himself on the edge of Arthur's desk. "Thought he'd be here."

Arthur fiddled with his coffee cup. "He's got a migraine. Says he'll be in later."

Cobb nodded. "OK. Just as long as he is."

Arthur nodded, mechanically, watching as Cobb pushed himself off the desk and walked over to his. Swallowing, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, and dialled. Waited. He groaned inwardly with frustration as the voicemail clicked in.

"Eames. Arthur. Cobb's asking questions. Just…get over here as soon as you can, ok?"

Swallowing, he slid the phone closed. He bent over his laptop, feeling guilty for lying to Cobb, and angry with Eames for putting him in such an awkward position. He shrugged his shoulders, and buried himself in his work.

* * *

Eames walked to the warehouse, feeling slow, and disconnected. Everything was too much effort. He opened the door of the warehouse, and trudged up the stairs. As he opened the door, he saw Arthur, sitting at his desk.

"Arthur!" he smiled.

"Eames," Arthur said, leaning back in his chair. "Thought you were-"

"Oh, I got better," Eames said, trying to ignore the pounding insistence in his head that what he needed, really needed, was a hit. "I feel fine, Arthur, really."

The Point Man nodded. "Great. So maybe you could help me with this profile? I need to know if you can forge."

Eames nodded. "Yes, of course. I'll be back in a minute."

Arthur swallowed, feeling his heart constrict painfully in his chest. "OK." He watched as the Forger left the room, wishing he had the courage to ask him a few simple questions.

_Why are you doing this to yourself?_

_Why am I not enough for you?_

_Why are you putting me through this?_

He rubbed his forehead, and reached for his coffee cup. Suddenly, his need for caffeine seemed almost harmless.

* * *

Eames gripped the edge of the sink, wincing as he took in his appearance. His skin was slightly grey, and his eyes a little bloodshot. He'd tried to focus on talking to Arthur, but nothing made sense. His brain had turned to cotton wool. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the metallic foil wrap, and opened it. Putting his hand in his pocket, he removed his wallet, and tugged out a credit card.

Looking at the white powder, he carefully shaped it into a line. Leaning over, he sniffed, sharply, letting it enter his nose. Blinking, he stood up, feeling the impact start to spread in his brain. He swallowed, and rubbed the residue into his gums.

Suddenly the day seemed possible again. Eames put his credit card back in his pocket, and smiling, walked back into the warehouse.


	3. Chapter 3

"It would be nice, it would be very nice," Eames says quickly, not pausing to draw breath, "if we could just find the mark, sedate him, and go into the extraction. Perfect, in fact. Then we don't have to worry about any of the problems. You can go in, Cobb, with Arthur, I don't even need to, it looks as though it'll be too easy for that-"

He paused. The other team members were looking at him. "What?" He said, turning and looking bemused.

An awkward silence descended. Cobb swallowed, and looked at the table, Ariadne looked puzzled. Arthur was staring at him intently. The Forger saw, through the slightly drug fogged haze, that the Point Man was glaring at him.

"Eames, just calm down, ok?" Cobb said, finally breaking the silence. "It is a big job, no need to get overwrought. We can handle it. Now, do you want a drink?"

"It's a bit early for me, actually," the Forger lied. Arthur's gaze dropped to the table, a blush starting to spread along his cheekbones. Eames ignored it.

"I meant of water," Cobb finished. There was a hint of annoyance in his voice, and Eames suddenly realised he was coming close to exposing himself. "Water, Eames."

Arthur looked at him, and caught his eye. The Forger swallowed. "Yes, please."

Cobb walked to the dispenser, and poured him a glass. Arthur could barely raise his eyes. The Forger sipped at it. "Thank you."

Cobb shrugged. "Don't mention it." He walked back to his seat.

"Listen," Arthur broke in. "I think the most important aspect of this job is to make sure that everyone knows their role, and what's expected…" he trailed off. Eames was tapping his fingers on the table, a steady thrumming sound. Arthur swallowed. "Everyone needs to-will you cut that out?" he said, irritably.

Eames raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, darling."

"Not at work," the Point Man responded, curtly, feeling a feeling of shame as he saw hurt briefly flicker in Eames' eyes. He took a deep breath. "The mark needs to be watched, at all times."

Eames nodded. "OK, ok, I can do that, I can-"

"Oh, for God's sake!" Arthur yelled, throwing his documents onto the table. "Eames, just-" he paused, a vein in his neck twitching and trying to breathe. "Just-" he swallowed. "I need some air."

Getting up, he walked to the door, leaving a group of shocked faces.

* * *

Arthur stood outside, pulling at his tie. He felt hot, and breathless. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall. Suddenly, his eyes flew open with a jolt.

"I'm sorry, darling."

"No, Eames, don't." Arthur shook his head. "You're high, and you're at work-" Arthur turned to him. "Do you have any idea what this does to me? You're on cocaine and I'm trying to cover for you?"

"I'm a problem for you, aren't I?" hurt flashed in the older man's eyes. "Its easily fixed, Arthur, I can just leave and-"

"No, I don't mean that." Arthur shook his head. He could feel angry tears building up. "Its just- I need to trust you, and I can't. Please, get some help. Please."

Eames nodded. "Anything for you," he said, and pulled Arthur close for a kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur slammed the door, feeling hurt and angry. He couldn't believe how Eames had behaved. Embarrassing himself like that, in front of their team mates. Not caring that people could notice he was high on cocaine.

Swallowing, Arthur walked into the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water. Taking a sip, his eye fell on traces of powder near the sink. With a feeling of revulsion, he ran his finger over it lightly, and put it to his tongue.

A jolt ran through him. Backing off, he moved away, trying not to swallow. Going to the sink, he spat it out, and rinsed his mouth.

"Are you ok, darling?"

Arthur looked up. Eames had entered, trying not to let his face split into a grin. The younger man's eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here," Eames replied.

"Yeah, and you leave your…" Arthur shuddered. "Your cocaine spread over the place." He glared at Eames. "I couldn't believe how you behaved today, Eames. Couldn't believe it. How could you embarrass yourself and me like that?"

"Oh, come on, Arthur," Eames wheedled. "I doubt Cobb cares. Besides, maybe you should give it a try. Stop you being so humourless." He pulled out a small plastic bag.

"Don't open it," Arthur said sharply, and turned his back.

"Arthur…"

The Point Man turned. Eames had a little mocking smile on his face. "Come on," he said softly. "It's the best Arthur, it really is. You won't need to watch your weight or go to the gym ever again if you try this. I know how you like to look good…"

Arthur swallowed. "Eames. Stop it. I'm not going to be bullied into trying that."

Eames shrugged. "Suit yourself. But it stops me getting wider in the middle…and you've only got a couple of years leeway until you need to worry…"

Arthur rubbed his forehead. Eames' taunts were beginning to annoy him. "Look, I've got some work to do-"

He stopped. Eames had opened the bag, and cut a line with his credit card. To Arthur's astonishment, he leaned down, and snorted it. As he brought his head back up, Arthur noticed that Eames' pupils were blown.

"Come on," he said softly. Swallowing, Arthur watched as Eames cut another line.

"Eames?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Why do you want me to…"

"So you can appreciated what I love. What I love as much as you." Eames shot him a crooked grin. "Come on…"

Bending over, Arthur put his face to the line.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you. **

"Eames." Arthur stood up. "I'm not doing this. Its-"

"What's wrong, Artie?" Eames' voice was soft. The Point Man blinked, and swallowed.

"Its cocaine," Arthur responded calmly. "That's whats wrong, Eames. Cocaine. Its-"

"Too dangerous for you." The Forger sighed dramatically. "I knew it. You like to live dangerously, but only when its pretend."

Arthur bristled. "Excuse me?" He narrowed his eyes, and turned to the sink. "I need to get changed."

"You heard. You live dangerously, darling, but only when its pretend."

Arthur stood, clutching a coffee cup. Turning, he faced the Forger. "Care to explain?"

"Oh, of course I will. You live dangerously – bullets, fights, life in zero gravity – but only in dreams, Arthur. Face it, you're a nice cornfed prep school boy who just can't hack it."

Arthur felt a trickle of sweat between his shoulder blades form. "Can't...hack it?"

"Arthur. Whats your role in the team? The desk job. Cobb extracts, I forge, Ariadne designs. You just sit behind your desk, pushing a pencil. Then in dreams, you get to be someone dangerous."

Arthur slammed the cup in the sink, and turned to face Eames. "OK," he said, edgily. "I'm dull. I'm boring. So why are you with me?"

"Arthur!" Eames gave him a pitying look. "You're fantastic in bed. You have a body to die for. So..."

Arthur felt tears beginning, to his shock. He stared at Eames. "So, its sex and my body. Not my mind. Not my personality."

"You can change that," Eames said, smoothly. "Come on. Just try a little bit. It'll make everything seem...so much better."

Arthur took a deep breath, and walked to the line of glistening powder. He bent over. "What do I...?"

"One finger on your nostril," Eames advised. "Sniff up, baby."

Arthur placed his finger tip on his left nostril. "So I just..?"

"Yes."

Arthur sniffed, hard. And felt the powder start to lodge itself in his nasal passages. He twitched, recoiling at the sharp, burning sensation. He winced, feeling a tear roll down his face.

"This, this-"

"Give it a chance," Eames said gently.

Arthur scrunched his face up. All he felt was pain. Suddenly, it dissipated, and he felt a different feeling. A rush. His eyes opened, and his pupils blew.

"Mmm..." he smiled.

Eames looked at him, and smiled, predatorily.

"Shall we go upstairs?" He whispered. "Sex on cocaine...you'll have an amazing time..."

Arthur giggled. "Why not?"

Ensuring his stash and credit card were firmly lodged in his pocket, Eames took the Point Man's arm, and led him to the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur felt himself floating. The delicious sensation seemed interminable. Closing his eyes, he could feel waves of bliss roll over him. He didn't want to stir, want to move.

Eames looked down at him, a knowing little smile playing on his lips. Carefully dislodging Arthur's head from his chest, he got up, and went to the bureau. Pulling the small plastic bag out of his pocket, he poured a line, put his nose to the glass, and snorted. As it hit, he found himself grinning. He headed back to bed.

"Darling..." he whispered, stroking Arthur's side.

"Hmmm?"

"Darling, are you awake?"

"Hmmm?"

Eames relented, letting the Point Man lie still. He ran his fingers down Arthur's back, noting the smoothness of the muscles beneath the skin. He kissed his back. "So soft," he whispered.

Arthur shifted slightly. Eames watched him through the coke induced daze. His eyelids began to flicker.

"Arthur?" Eames' tone was soft.

Arthur blinked. "Hmmm?"

"Arthur, are you coming round?"

Arthur's eyes fluttered open, fully. Suddenly, a look of slight alarm crossed his face, and he put his hand to his nose.

"What's wrong, darling?"

"Its, its-" Arthur spluttered. Eames suddenly realised, and leaning over, pulled a few tissues from the box.

"Here," he said, kindly. "Its a nosebleed. You get used to them."

Arthur wiped at his nose, shuddering slightly as he saw the red blood reflected on the fragile white. He swallowed.

"Eames, I'm feeling..." he whispered.

"What, darling?"

"A bit..." he shrugged his shoulders, and fell back into bed.

"Its the comedown," Eames said, reassuringly. "You always have a comedown after a high. It gets better, Arthur, I promise. Soon, you'll find that you can think more quickly, move more quickly...you'll find you look slimmer in your suits..."

Arthur nodded, his eyes closing.

"But at the moment, sleep." Eames kissed his forehead, and rubbed his own gums. "It gets better. It does."


	7. Chapter 7

**Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur rolled over, wincing. A shaft of bright sunlight had pierced through the blind, hitting his eyes. Rubbing them, he began to sit up, and focused on the numbers on the digital clock.

9.30am.

_9.30am!_ Arthur's eyes bulged. He was late. Shoving the duvet aside, he hurried to the bathroom. After sluicing his face and brushing his teeth, he opened the closet and grabbed the first clothes he could find. After he was dressed, he hurried to the kitchen, and gulped down a glass of water. He was aware of a deep throb in his head, and wincing, he grabbed what he needed for the day, and practically ran out of the door.

* * *

"So, to perform this, we need to-" Cobb broke off. Arthur threw the door open, hot and slightly dishevelled. Ariadne looked surprised, as did the Extractor.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I-" Arthur broke off. Eames was sitting at the table, smiling at him with a faint touch of malice. Arthur felt his blush rise as Eames reached for his water glass.

"I'm sorry darling," Eames said, drolly. "You looked so lovely this morning, I couldn't bear to wake you."

"In future, Arthur, set an alarm clock," Cobb said, tersely, ignoring the Point Man's obvious discomfort. "I need you to be here on time."

Arthur nodded, his ego stinging from the reprimand. "Of course."

"Get yourself seated."

Arthur did so, next to Ariadne. Her expression was puzzled as she looked at him. "You ok?" she whispered.

"Yes," he said, curtly. Her blush rose, and he looked away. He felt agitated, but also strangely down. He swallowed, and grabbed the water glass in front of him. As he raised it to his lips, his hand started to shake, and water slopped over the side.

"Oh!" Ariadne got up, a large damp patch spreading on her shirt. Arthur put the glass down, horrified.

"Oh, Ari, I'm sorry, I-"

"Its all right," she said, her voice low. "Excuse me." As she walked past the Point Man, she shot him another puzzled look. Arthur took a deep breath.

"Arthur." Cobb's voice was calm. "Sit down."

"OK." Arthur felt irritated, and shot a look at Cobb. The Extractor blinked. Eames ignored them. Arthur rubbed his nose, and his he withdrew his finger, saw a smear of blood. Shocked, he pushed his chair back with a harsh, clattering sound.

"Excuse me." Arthur stood up, and hurried to the men's room. As he stood in front of the sink, he grabbed it and peered into the mirror.

He looked the same. Same face, same body. But his head...he shook it. He felt anxious, and to his horror, almost tearful. He splashed his face, and exhaled.

"You allright, darling?"

He looked up. Eames was standing next to him.

"I'm great," Arthur said, his teeth gritted. He ran cold water on his wrists to cool his blood. "I feel terrific."

"Its only the first time." Eames said, soothingly. "The second time will be better."

"There isn't going to be a next time." Arthur looked at him, and rubbed his face. "You're on your own with this, Eames. I want you to stop."

"Coward."

The voice was taunting. Arthur swallowed. "No I'm not."

"One line of cocaine too much for you?" You disappoint me."

"I'm happy to disappoint you," Arthur responded, coldly.

"Fine." Eames shrugged "But it might get a bit lonely for you."

"Excuse me?"

"Plenty of people to do cocaine with Arthur." Eames' eyes flashed dangerously. "Trust me."

Arthur looked at him. "Are you saying...?"

"If I'm at home...at least you know what I'm doing."

"I'm not doing it again." Arthur picked up his jacket, and walked past the Forger to the door, letting it bang on his way out. Eames smiled knowingly.

"Of course not," he whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur finished the last bite of his meal, and checked his watch. After 11pm, and still no Eames.

He got up, picked up the plate, and walked to the sink, turning the faucet on. A jet of water hit the plate, causing it to spray and splatter the Point Man's immaculate shirt.

"Shit!" he swore, turning the faucet off and angrily grabbing at a towel. He scrubbed at his chest, only to exhale and let the towel drop. Running a hand through his hair, he clutched the sides of the sink, leaning over. He inhaled slowly, trying to calm his pounding heart.

The rest of the day had been torturous. Eames had kept trying to approach him throughout the course of it, only for Arthur to turn away each time. Every time Eames had tried to talk to him, he'd ignored him. Every time he'd passed him a file, he'd let it drop to the desk, refusing to hold out his hand for it. He'd remained rigid and untouchable all day.

Finally, Cobb had approached him in the men's room. Arthur had turned his back. "Not now."

"Arthur." Cobb's voice was low. "What the hell is going on with you two?"

Arthur swallowed. He'd stuck up for Eames several times, when he'd turned up late, or high, or both. He couldn't tell Cobb the reason. Wouldn't tell him. He ran his wrists under the cold faucet to cool his blood, then turned and faced the Extractor.

"He just...pisses me off at times." Arthur set his jaw, looking directly into Cobb's eyes. "He doesn't clear up after himself. Its like living with a teenager. Do you know how many dirty plates I've pulled out of-"

"Arthur." Cobb cut him off. "I don't care. You're at work, he's at work. Your domestic problems are not the team's. Get over it, get over yourself, and get back to work."

Arthur blinked, feeling as though Cobb had slapped him. He'd often hinted that Arthur's fastidiousness was difficult, but he'd never said so directly. Not in that tone of voice. With a final backward glare, the Extractor turned and left the bathroom.

Arthur exhaled, straightened his tie, and went back to his desk. When he came back, he found a turkey salad sub and an Americano sitting on his desk. He looked round. Ariadne was nibbling on a ham and cheese baguette. She smiled at the Point Man.

"Where...?"

"Oh, Eames said he'd get lunch for as all," she said, after swallowing. "Its your favourite, right?"

Arthur sat down, and picked up the sub, taking a bite. It tasted dry, and he chewed doubtfully. Ariadne looked at him. "Something wrong?"

"No mayo," he explained, swallowing. At that moment, Eames wandered in.

"Oh, I thought it would do you good," he said, calmly. "I mean, I've lost some weight lately...you don't want to get porky, do you?"

Arthur nearly choked with fury. Eames had lost weight, due to the cocaine. And he admitted to himself, he had stopped running recently, due to working long hours and feeling exhausted. But his clothes still fitted, and -

_Stop it! _His mind screamed at him.

"No, Eames," he said, his voice acidic. "I don't." He picked up the sub, and took another bite, chewing it slowly. The Forger smirked with satisfaction and left the room. Arthur reached for his coffee, his mind and stomach churning.

* * *

"Hello, darling."

Arthur's head snapped up. How long had he been standing at the sink? He shook his head to clear it. Eames had wandered in, and was wrapping his arms round his waist. He leaned forward, and started gently nibbling at his neck.

Arthur reached down, and pushed the other man's hands off. "Don't. Just - don't."

Eames blinked. "Oh." He took a step back, studying Arthur. "Are you still upset with me?" his voice was weedling, like an over-indulged toddler. Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"What do you think?" He grabbed angrily at the dishcloth, focusing his attention once more on the dishes. "You get coked up, you make me look a fool, you try and worm your way out of it-"

"I make you look a fool?" Eames pouted. "You overslept. What's the problem?"

Arthur closed his eyes. This was not going to end well. Eames was charming straight, and manipulative when high. Arthur knew everything he said would be twisted and thrown back at him.

"Forget it." He slammed the plate into the draining rack. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Do what you like."

"I want to come to bed too." Eames stepped forward, and pulled him close, tightening his grip around the slender man. "Can I come to bed with you, Arthur?"

Arthur gritted his teeth.

"If you like," he replied, sourly, pushing down on Eames' arms. Turning, he left the room, and headed upstairs.

* * *

Arthur lay in bed. He'd showered, and pulled on a pair of boxers, not bothering to wonder where Eames was. He thought he'd heard the front door bang, and shrugged.

"Asshole," he muttered angrily. He closed his eyes. He could almost hear Cobb's voice.

_"So, what is the problem, Arthur?"_

_"He's a cokehead."_

_"So just dump him!"_

_"Its not that easy."_

_"Why is it not that easy?"_

_"I love him."_

_"Arthur, that's pathetic."_

_"Fuck you."_

His eyes opened. He could feel hot, rapid breathing on his neck. He turned. "Eames?"

"Arthur...Arthur..."

The Point Man felt Eames cuddling into his neck. He realised that the other man's face was wet. Tears.

"What is it?"

"Arthur...I need to take some," Eames' voice was piteous. "I need a hit, Arthur. I need it."

"No you don't." Arthur spoke firmly. "Get into bed."

"I need a-"

"No, you don't." Arthur could feel his patience going to breaking point. "Just go to sleep, please."

"Arthur..."

"SHUT UP!" Arthur erupted. His voice rose by an octave, and his anger surged. "Just shut the fuck up! I am so sick of you! So sick of your whining, your begging, the fact you cannot leave that alone! When are you going to realise I love you? When are you going to stop destroying yourself? Destroying me? When, Eames, WHEN?"

Eames stood up. He looked at Arthur. His face was pale, but his demeanour was eerily calm.

"Never." he said softly. "Never."

Turning, he left the room, leaving Arthur feeling wracked with guilt. Closing his eyes, he tried to smother his tears.

**Thank you for reading - please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**

Arthur rubbed his face, and looked at the wall. Saturday. Cobb had told him to take the weekend off.

"Take some time for yourself," had been his words. Arthur frowned - he felt there was a hidden message. Opening the paper, he turned straight to the crossword, determined to do it and try and ignore Eames.

Or, more precisely, the fact Eames was missing. He'd left the previous night, and not returned. Arthur had slept on and off, fearing the worst, then feeling relieved he wasn't there. Then a pang of guilt would pierce his heart, and he'd try and shake his head to clear it.

His pen scratched the surface of the paper. He closed his eyes, seeing the words swim before them. He suddenly remembered a talk he'd gone to before he'd dropped out of College to join Cobb. The talk had been about addiction. He swallowed, remembering the words that he'd heard:

_All addicts are selfish. If you're loved, there is no greater selfishness than self-destruction. _

Arthur remembered those words, feeling his heart twist. He did love Eames, and yet, Eames wouldn't stop, couldn't stop using.

"What am I doing wrong?" he mumbled. Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door, and he jumped up, the pen clattering from his fingers to the floor.

As he walked to the front door, he felt his heart begin to pound. What if it was the police? He could imagine it- "_I'm sorry, we found him high on an illegal substance, and had no choice but to..." _Arthur rubbed his face. He felt nervous, agitated. As he peered through the frosted pane of glass, he felt a wave of relief. The slight figure of Ariadne was smiling back at him.

"Arthur!" She waved, and he unlocked the door.

"Hi!" She was breathless, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. "I know its Saturday, but you've seemed really down lately, so I thought I'd come and cheer you up!"

Arthur blinked. The sheer fact someone was willing to do something nice for him was a shock. He swallowed, looking at her.

"That is good of you," he nodded. "Coffee?"

"Please." She entered, pulling off her gloves. "Its cold out there."

Arthur led her to the kitchen, and picked up another mug. As he poured the black liquid into it, he looked at her. She was sitting on a chair.

"No Eames?" she asked, almost timidly.

"No." Arthur placed the mug in front of her. "He's out."

"Oh." Ariadne picked the mug up, and took a sip. "Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"What's going on?"

Arthur looked at her. "What do you mean?"

She paused, as though looking for the words she needed. "Its just...you seem to wound up and angry all the time, and Eames, well..." she frowned.

"Eames what?" Arthur was beginning to wish he'd never invited her in.

"Eames seems..." she paused again. "Different. More-"

"Hyperactive?" Arthur looked tired. She nodded.

"Aggressive at times?" She nodded.

"Arthur, I think he's-"

_On cocaine. Just say it, Ariadne. Eames is on cocaine. Thats why he's lost weight, why he's up and down like a yo yo. Why one minute he wants me close and the next minute he's turned on me. He's a cokehead, and I don't know what to do to help him. Help me. Please. _

Ariadne looked at Arthur, thoughtfully. He took another sip of coffee. _Come on, Ari..._

"You could do something to make him feel...loved?"

Arthur blinked again, looking at her. "Excuse me?"

"Well," Ariadne cleared her throat. "Arthur, you always have something to do, and Eames - well, he sometimes doesn't. He might be feeling a little left out at the moment, with this particular job...maybe you could...?"

Arthur relaxed. He looked at her lovely face. There was no criticism, no implied "bad boyfriend." She was trying to help him.

"I could make Eames feel very special," Arthur said. "Of course."

She smiled. "Arthur, you make us all feel special."

The compliment was lovely, but he felt small.

* * *

Arthur lit the candles. He'd ordered in Chinese take away - Eames' favourite - and also shaved and put on a fresh shirt. As he was laying the cutlery, he heard a key turn in the lock.

"Arthur?" Eames' voice floated out. Arthur blinked - it sounded small, and upset. "Arthur?"

"I'm here, Eames," Arthur said, walking into the hallway. He took in the Forger - he was wearing the previous days' clothing, and he hadn't washed. His eyes were bloodshot, and Arthur could tell that he'd not slept. He bit his lip. "Eames, are you...?"

"Arthur..." it came out as a piteous whine, and to his shock, Arthur noticed that there were tears in the older man's eyes. "Arthur, I'm so sorry..."

Arthur looked at him. Eames was crying. He took a step forward, opening his arms.

"Eames, it'll be ok, I promise-" Eames rushed into Arthur's embrace, sobbing. Arthur rubbed his back, holding him close. It'll be ok," he said, softly. "I promise."

"I'm sorry Arthur," Eames choked out. "I'm pathetic. I can't treat you properly, you'd be better off if I were-"

"No, I wouldn't," Arthur spoke firmly. "I really wouldn't. Come on."

Eames allowed himself to be led into the main room. His eyes widened when he saw what Arthur had done.

"Its my favourite-" He squeezed Arthur, hard. "You're so good to me." He smiled, and Arthur felt a rush of genuine warmth for the older man. He eyed the take away. "Unless you're just trying to fatten me up..." he looked at Arthur, and smiled.

"Of course," Arthur said, smiling himself. "You got me."

"Can I get changed first?" Eames' tone was pleading. Arthur nodded. "Of course."

Eames looked at him. "Arthur...I know I'm a selfish bastard. I know I'm using too much, but I want to change..." his tone was soft, pleading. "Help me?"

"I will," Arthur said, looking at him. "Go and get changed."

Eames nodded, and walked towards the hallway. As he did so, he felt the bag of cocaine in his pocket, and smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Sorry for the hiatus!**

Eames leaned over the sink, and opened the bag. As the fine powder began to spill out, he carefully and gently pushed it into a line. His stomach lurched slightly, and he thought of Arthur. He closed his eyes.

_I'm sorry. I really need this. _

Leaning over, he snorted the line, his eyes smarting slightly as he did so. Standing up, he rubbed the residue into his gums, and smiles.

Suddenly, being with Arthur all evening seems possible again.

* * *

Arthur looked at his watch. Eames was taking his time, and he bit his lip. He really wanted this evening to work. Suddenly, as though hearing his thoughts, the tread on the stairs heralded the return of the older man.

"I'm sorry," Eames apologised, as he came in and sat down. "Needed to wash my face." He grinned at Arthur, who with a sinking heart, noticed the older man's blown pupils.

_You lying piece of shit. Can't you stay straight just for one evening? _

"Don't look at me like that," Eames muttered, defensively. "I'm not," Arthur responded, realising the temperature between them was cooling more quickly than the sweet and sour chicken. "But, Eames, if you're high-"

"I'm not." The words were snapped out, and Arthur realised that he was not going to be able to question Eames further. Biting his lip, he began to put rice onto his plate. "Help yourself."

"Thank you." Eames was smiling again. Arthur shook his head. The mood swings, the unpredictability, the general not-knowing...how much longer would he have to put up with the man like this?

"Um, Cobb said we should take the whole weekend off."

"Suits me," Eames mumbled around a mouthful of chicken. "I'm so fed up with the warehouse."

Arthur blinked. "Oh, ok. Well, I was thinking that we could do something tomorrow-"

"Let's stay in bed," Eames interrupted.

"What?"

"You heard. Let's stay in bed. Do nothing else all day. Enjoy it." Eames was pushing his food around his plate; his initial hunger seemed to have dissipated. "I get to spend time with you, and-"

"Your cocaine," Arthur interrupted.

Eames blinked. "What?"

"Your cocaine." Arthur spat the word out. "You're high at the moment, aren't you? Look at you - twisting in your seat, sucking on your tongue - you're high, and don't try and deny it!"

Eames blinked. "OK," he said, in a soft voice, sounding like a penitent child. "I am. I had a line before I came down." He shrugged. "Now you know, does that make you feel better?"

Arthur shook his head. "No."

"You know what would?" Eames grinned at him, and pulled the bag out of his pocket, swinging it. The light caught the powder, throwing a melange of shimmering colours against the wall.

Arthur looked at him, and raised an eyebrow. "No."

"What?"

"No." He shook his head. "Sorry, I can't be with you when you're like this." Walking over to the side, he scooped up his car keys, and headed to the door. As he opened it, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't go. Please, don't leave me."

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. I apologise for the relative shortness of this chapter, but getting back into this fic after two month hiatus is a bit difficult. Thank you to everyone reading this!**

"Arthur..." Eames got up, and started to wrap his arms around the younger man's waist. "Arthur, please don't go. We can talk this through. I know we can."

Arthur sighed inwardly. He knew that voice. That pleading, soft voice. The voice of a thousand promises. He swallowed. "I don't know." His voice was slightly broken. "Let me go, Eames."

Putting his hands on Eames' forearms, he pushed them down, breaking the man's grasp. As he opened the door, he heard Eames' voice, desperate, and pleading. "Arthur..."

Arthur started to walk. He knew he couldn't look back into the other man's face. If he did, he was lost.

* * *

Cobb carefully dried the mug he was holding, and put it on the shelf. The house was quiet - too quiet. The children were with Miles, enjoying a little break. He smiled. Much as he loved them, being a single father, in addition to running Extraction, was taking its toll. He sighed, and rubbed his forehead, his wedding ring flashing in the light. The smile gave way to sadness - it was coming up to five years.

He switched the light off in the kitchen, and began to walk back into the main lounge. Arthur had been extremely quiet the last couple of days - and defensive. Cobb frowned. The Point Man was an intensely private man, and never liked to discuss his problems, or appear weak in front of people, but he could see something was weighing him down. Something that was about six foot. British. And clearly in the grip of something he couldn't control.

The Extractor sat down, and reached for the glass of scotch that was resting on the coffee table. Drugs. He only had to look at Eames, the twitchiness, hyperactivity, and the tell tale weight loss. He swallowed. He knew it was putting a strain on Arthur. The Point Man was becoming increasingly distracted - and unreliable. Frowning, the Extractor rubbed his forehead. A conversation with Arthur could prove difficult, but he had to-

A knock on the door surprised him. He got up, and peered through the spyhole. Arthur. His eyes widening slightly, he unlatched, and let him in.

"I'm sorry, but I-" Arthur broke off as he saw Cobb looking at him, almost sympathetically, and nodded. "Come in."

Arthur did so, and was ushered through to the lounge. Cobb looked at him. "Drink?"

"Please."

As he poured a scotch, the Extractor studied the Point Man. He looked tired, and his mouth turned in a downward slant. "Where's Ariadne?" Arthur was aware that the Extractor had begun a burgeoning, tentative relationship with the Architect, and he had respected their privacy. They had been kindness itself when he had begun his relationship with Eames. He swallowed.

"She's out with friends." Cobb's tone was simple, neutral. He handed Arthur the glass. "Where's Eames?"

The Point Man took a sip. "At home."

"OK." Cobb settled himself into a chair. "What's happened?"

Arthur looked down, and shook the glass, letting the amber liquid swirl and catch the light. "I think Eames is using again."

Cobb looked at him. "Again," he said softly.

Arthur felt a sharp pain rip through him as he enunciated the words. No-one had ever said it to him, _Hey, your boyfriend is a junkie, _but that was what they thought.

What he thought. He took another sip of scotch.

"What are you going to do?" Cobb's tone was quiet. Arthur paused.

"Get him some help. Put him in rehab." Arthur shrugged. "Only way. The simplest way."

"What about you?" Cobb looked at him, intently.

"Me? I'll be ok." Arthur swallowed. "I just need to get him some help. But-" _But he looks good on cocaine. He's lost weight, looks younger. And I hate myself for even thinking this. _

"Don't lose yourself," Cobb said, softly. "Help Eames, and find a way back."

Arthur nodded.

* * *

****Swallowing, Eames looking in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, and the last line he'd snorted had not helped. Grimacing, he leaned over the sink, and looked at the lines.

"One more hit," he mumbled. Pressing his nostril shut, he began to snort. Suddenly, he began to choke.

_Too strong, _his mind chanted. _Too strong!_

__Eames swallowed, and clutched at the sink. A rush had hit him, but far harder than any he'd ever experienced before. His heart was pounding, and felt as though it would burst out of his chest Sinking to his knees, everything began to darken, and grow smaller.

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur smiled at Cobb as he left. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He nodded at the younger man. "Just look after yourself, ok?"

Nodding, the Point Man turned and walked down the steps. As he unlocked and settled himself in the car, he tried to clear his head.

"No goading, no letting him walk over me," he muttered. "He has a problem, he needs to get help."

Firm in his resolve, he turned the ignition key, and began to drive back.

* * *

Eames slumped, unable to clutch at the sink. As he fell, he felt pain shoot in waves up his body, and to his head. Coughing, his body made contact with the floor.

On his tongue, he tasted blood.

* * *

Arthur unlocked, and headed into the apartment. "Eames?" he called out. "You here?"

Silence. Feeling his heart sink a little, he walked through the apartment. "Eames?"

Suddenly, a thought came to him, and he hurried into the bedroom, going straight to the en-suite bathroom, and flicked on the light. "oh, _Christ!"_

* * *

Cobb sat next to Arthur, and handed him a cup of vending machine coffee. "Here. It tastes like mud, but at least its hot."

Arthur nodded. "Thank you." He took a sip, and felt the warmth snake down to the pit of his stomach. He looked at the Extractor. "I'm sorry, Dom, dragging you out here-"

Cobb put his hand on his arm, and squeezed it. "Not your fault."

"Yes, it is." Arthur took another sip. "But, its going to change. Even if I have to lock him in a room 24/7!"

"Arthur!" Cobb looked slightly stunned. "You really think that will help?"

"It has to." Arthur looked down at his hands. "He's used for God-knows-how long. He's tried to bully me over it - oh Arthur, stop being such a stick in the mud, you know I can't help it- and now, I'm taking control." He took a long swallow of coffee. "He has to change. He's going to."

Cobb looked at him, warily. "Be careful."

Arthur shook his head. "No. No, he's the one whose going to be careful. He's not going to browbeat me over this anymore."

Suddenly, a young intern appeared in front of them. She smiled at the both. "Mr Ogilvie?"

Arthur stood up. "Yes, that's me." He looked at her. "How is he?"

She bit her lip. "Well, he did nearly OD, but he's going to be OK." She smiled, nervously, noticing the way Arthur's dark brows pulled together in a near scowl. "Do you want to see him?"

Arthur nodded, grimly. "Yes, please."

* * *

Eames blinked, the bright lights burning into his eyes. He shifted his head uncomfortably, trying hard not to disturb the IV that was snaking into his hand. He licked his lip, his mouth dry.

He turned his head, and his face relaxed. Arthur was sitting next to him, his lips compressed into a thin, tight line. "Eames."

"Arthur," Eames said, his tone grateful. "Oh, God, you're-"

Arthur leaned over. "How could you?" he whispered, his tone slightly choked. "How could you, Eames? Don't I give you enough attention, is that the problem? Don't I show I love you enough?"

Eames blinked. "Arthur, please, I-"

"You overdosed," the younger man said bitterly. "Overdosed, leaving me to find you on the bathroom floor." He sat back, and shook his head. "I don't believe you."

Eames fell silent. Arthur continued, his anger bubbling and spilling up.

"You make me sick," he snarled. "You know what? I've had enough of your lies, your using. You're going into rehab. You're not coming out, until you're clean! And then I'll decide if I want to spend the rest of my life with you!"

Eames swallowed, and reached for Arthur's hand; to his shock, the Point Man pulled it away. "No." He shook his head. "I mean it. You're not going to manipulate me anymore. I've had it. I love you so much," he said, hoarsely, "and you just abuse it."

"Arthur," Eames practically whispered, his voice almost too faint to hear, "please, I need you-"

"Stop it," Arthur said, tears threatening to fill his eyes. "You can't do this to me, to yourself. I'm going to get you some help. But don't worry, I'll visit."

The Point Man got up, and turned his back to the Forger. As he left, Eames turned his head to the wall, tears of shock and shame starting to overspill.

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me.**

Eames blinked, and rolled over, only for his hand to hit the wall. He swallowed, and tried to sit up.

"Arthur?" he whispered, his mind still fogged by sleep. "Arthur, are you-"

Suddenly, he remembered, and his mind came to a blank. He heard a tapping noise on the outer door. "Hey, you ok?"

Eames didn't answer. He merely laid back down again, and pulled the sheets up, hoping to block the world out.

* * *

Arthur stood in the kitchenette of the warehouse, carefully putting coffee granules into a mug. Cobb approached him, and looked at the floor, before meeting his eyes.

"How are you?" he asked, carefully. Arthur shrugged, dispassionately. "OK."

"Really?" Cobb looked at the Point Man. "What you've done is-"

"Heartless, I know," Arthur interrupted. "But it was for his own good." He shuddered slightly, his hand trembling as he held the mug to the hot water dispenser. "I couldn't have him back in the apartment, not after what happened." He turned and looked at Cobb. "He tried to overdose. Overdose, and I found him on the floor. If I'd got back later-" he stopped, his mind in a froth of agonising thoughts. He turned to the Extractor. "He could have died. And the only way for him to get through this, is to actually learn how to stop using."

Cobb nodded. "I agree." He picked up a mug. "Eames using is a -"

"Nightmare," Arthur said, simply. "He is. He's manic, he's impulsive, he's jittery - he just doesn't care. And, Dom, I have to know - why aren't I enough for him? Why does he need that, that crap, instead of just me?"

Cobb swallowed as he looked at the younger man. Arthur's face was composed, but his eyes reflected his anguish. He put the mug down. "But now, he's in the unit, and he'll be staying there."

"How long?"

Arthur swallowed. "A few weeks."

"Will you visit?"

Arthur paused, and looked at the floor.

* * *

Eames stared at the floor, the hard plastic seat felt uncomfortable. He had looked at the other members of the group, and then looked away.

He was nothing like these people, he reminded himself. They were drug addicts. Wash outs. Losers. People who had lost everything. Not him.

He had sat silently, uncommunicatively throughout the group session. He had barely heard anything the others had said, ignoring them, preferring to think his own thoughts.

"Eames?"

He looked up. The therapist, a young woman with soft dark hair, was smiling at him. "Tell us about yourself."

He swallowed, his mind racing. "Well, I-"

"Yes?" She pressed. He blinked, not wanting to continue. "What do you want to tell us?"

Eames sank back into his seat, and looked at her, his eyes hard. He was beginning to feel an uncontrollable shaking begin, and nausea. The effects of detoxing. At least he'd vomited in private, although the nurse entering his room early that morning had shaken his head when he saw the pool that had formed, staining the formica tiled floor.

* * *

Arthur sank down into a seat in the oddly quiet apartment. He sat, his ears pricked, listening.

Nothing. It was only now he was gone he realised how loud the Forger had been, how intrusive. The Point Man leaned over and rubbed his face.

He couldn't tell Cobb the truth, he surmised. The truth about how he'd proceeded to calmly sign the papers to commit Eames to rehab, without even telling him. _Its for his own good, _his mind had chanted, and then, with Eames still lying in a hospital bed, had told him.

"It'll be for a few weeks." Arthur hadn't broken eye contact, and watched as the Forger's eyes widened, then narrowed, at the news. "Only a few weeks, Eames."

"A few weeks," the Forger had repeated, nodding. Then, he'd laid back down, and turned his head to the wall.

"Eames, it doesn't have to be like this." Arthur tried to keep his voice firm, but was aware there was a catch in it, threatening to break at any point. "You can accept this, and as soon as you're well, I'll be so glad to have you back, I promise."

Silence. Arthur, realising that communication had ceased, got up and left.

Now he was sitting in silence, and all he could think of was the Forger. Was he all right, was he co-operating, was the programme going to work. He bit his lip. He remembered Eames as he'd been in the hospital bed.

Suddenly, the phone began to ring. Sighing, he picked it up. "Hello?"

"Arthur?"

The Point Man felt his heart wrench. Eames sounded..._broken._

"Eames? What is it?" Arthur regretted the words as they left his mouth. They sounded cold, cutting, like a parent giving an annoying child the brush-off. Silence fell.

"Eames?"

"Arthur, please. I can't- I can't-"

"Yes, you can," Arthur said, firmly, trying to suppress the well of emotion swelling within his chest. "You can, Eames."

"Arthur, I can't. I ca-"

* * *

Eames looked at the male nurse, who was removing the receiver from his hand. "Come on," he said gently. "You know the rule. No phone calls for the first week."

Eames shoved him. "Don't think so." He reached for the receiver, only to find a warning hand placed on his arm.

"I mean it," the nurse said, his tone less friendly. "Do that again, I'll have you back in your room. Now, come on. Social time."

* * *

The buzzing from the receiver sounded like a discordant insect. Dazedly, Arthur put the receiver down, leaned back, and closed his eyes. Without warning, tears began to fall down his cheeks.

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Apologies for the break in this one - I couldn't work out where the story was going to go. Thank you to all of you who have added it to favourites and alerts!**

Eames walked slowly into the recreation room. His eyes flickered round, and he realised that there was no-one he felt inclined to speak to, or start a conversation with. Shrugging, he walked over to a faded blue armchair, and burrowed himself down in it.

He gazed at the paperback in his hands. A cheap, pulpy thriller, the type found in airports, charity stores, and clinics. Nothing too cerebral, just mindless escapism to help him forget the sweats and cravings that were occupying his mind.

He shivered. His body was learning, but it was still craving cocaine. He'd barely slept for the past two nights, too overcome with his body shaking and aching muscles. He rubbed his forehead. His appetite had disappeared. He shrugged his shoulders.

_Well, Arthur, if you want a sick skeleton for a boyfriend, you sent him to the right place. _

He leaned back, and closed his eyes. His mind drifted, and he felt a gentle touch against his cheek. "Hey."

He began to open his eyes, smiling. Arthur was leaning over him, gently brushing his lips over his forehead. "Come on, time to go to bed. Its getting late."

Eames grabbed his hands. "Looking after me?"

"Where would you be if I didn't?" the younger man responded. Between the two of them, Eames got to his feet, and impulsively, put his arm around Arthur's waist. "Let's not go to bed...not yet."

Arthur pulled back, amusement sparking in his dark eyes. "What do you suggest?"

"I suggest-" Eames leaned forward, preparing to meet Arthur's lips with his. "I suggest-"

"-you sit here."

Eames blinked. Arthur was dissipating, and he reached for him. "Arth-"

"I suggest you sit here."

Eames' eyes started to open. To his shock, he was still in the cheerless recreation room. Again, the same flat, monotonous command. "I suggest you sit here."

Furious, the Forger turned his head. His eyes began to widen.

A male nurse, dressed in a crisp white tunic and trousers, was directing a new inmate to a chair. "Just sit here. I'll get you some water."

"I don't need water," came a sullen whine. "I need to make a phone call."

The nurse smiled, patiently, but Eames could see the contempt flickering in his eyes. "Mr. Fischer. It was explained to you when you entered the clinic. You are not allowed any contact with the outside world for a week. Next week, if you want to, we can arrange a visit from your guardian."

"He's not my guardian." The words came out, heavily coloured with bitterness. "He betrayed me."

"Mr Fischer, you'll have your meeting with your therapist soon." The nurse took a step back. "Now, I suggest you try and relax. The first 24 hours are going to be rough."

"I shouldn't be here." Robert Fischer's ice blue eyes flicked up, defiantly. "I'm a-"

"Tranquiliser addict," the nurse broke in, his tone calm. "But, what you'll learn in here is how you can start to lead a happy, productive life. You don't need to spend the rest of your life doped up, Mr Fischer. Now, I suggest you try and relax. The doc will be along soon to make another assessment." The nurse waved an arm. "Talk to people. Socialise." Turning, he began to leave.

Fischer leaned back in his chair, and groaned. Eames turned to him. "Hey. You OK?"

Fischer's mouth twisted. "Stupid question." Despite being stripped off his outer image - designer suit, iPhone, and expensive accroutements - there was still the haughty arrogance Eames had rattled at the very beginning to the inception. "What I really want at the moment is an espresso. Or a martini."

Eames lips quirked in a smile. "No caffeine. No alcohol. Not for the first few weeks." He leaned back in his seat.

Fischer shook his head. "Wasn't my idea to come here." He bit his lip. "I have trouble sleeping after my father's funeral. I go to a doctor, he prescribes me sleeping pills. My godfather gets the idea I'm overwrought, hysterical, not coping with grief, so he takes me to another specialist. I get prescribed other pills, and well, I thought they'd help me. The next thing I know, I'm being told I'm a tranquiliser addict, and I'm in here for my own good."

Eames snorted. "Sounds familiar."

"Not your choice either?" Fischer looked at him.

"No." Eames shrugged. "Boyfriend's." He swallowed. Mentioning Arthur felt almost like a betrayal of the younger man. "But your's was your godfather's?"

"Yes." Fischer scowled. "Can't handle the fact that I-" he paused, and looked at Eames, their eyes meeting. "Do I..." he swallowed. "Do I know you?"

"No," Eames shook his head, quickly. "No, I don't think so."

"Oh." Fischer shrugged. "Just you look a little like..." he shook his head again. "Sorry."

"'S allright." Eames swallowed, wondering how the conversation would turn, when suddenly, a female nurse entered. Eames smiled at her. Her face was gentle, accompanied by a soft voice.

"Eames? Your counsellor is ready to see you."

Eames got up, and started to walk to the door. He looked over his shoulder. Fischer was sitting slumped in the armchair. A dazed, broken figure, he was a far cry from the seemingly confident, arrogant young man Eames' had encountered during the inception. A peculiar feeling of guilt blossoming within him, the Forger followed the nurse, heading for the door.

**Thank you for reading, reviews appreciated!**


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